


I Come, Old Friend, From Hell Tonight

by shessocold



Series: I Told I'd Always Love You, I Always Did, I Always Will [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, F/M, Fantasizing, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Past Relationship(s), Professor Remus Lupin, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:49:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Remus never really got over Sirius.





	I Come, Old Friend, From Hell Tonight

_Oh, for Merlin's sake, there's no point. Might as well_ , thinks Remus, finally giving in to the idea that sleep isn't going to come to him unassisted. He lowers his pyjama pants, sighing as he does so – the idea of a Hogwarts professor indulging himself in his chambers still sounds somewhat undignified to him, but this particular professor (and the fact that he is _indeed_ a professor still seems completely bonkers to him) has a N.E.W.T. class to teach first thing in the morning, and if having a wank now is going to help him get at least a few hours of sleep, then so be it.

_Right, let's make this quick_ , he thinks bracingly, and his mind goes immediately to a night he's had a couple of years earlier with a Muggle woman in Galway – _the way her breasts threatened to spill out of her dress as she leaned over to chat him up in the pub_. An appreciative twitch of his dick. _Her little moans as he pinned her against the wall of her bedroom._ He starts stroking himself. _Grabbing a handful of silky black hair as she knelt down in front of–_

Remus stops abruptly, frowning. The woman in Galway had red hair. He knows all too well who the black hair in his fantasy belongs to, and the notion makes him deeply disgusted with himself. He stares at his still unwaveringly erect penis, half-wishing that it would just deflate out of shame. _Everyone else_ , he thinks, sternly. _Everyone but him._ Nothing changes. 

_All right_ , he concedes, casting around for something suitable. There was a bloke he worked with for a time – a few years older than him, faint lines around his eyes when he laughed, but with a boyish air about him that used to drive Remus crazy. _Messy blond hair. Very blue eyes, his left eyelid drooping slightly when he had been drinking or when he looked hungrily at Remus and asked if he wanted to spend the night together._ Remus gives an involuntary moan at the memory, his hand working faster. _The blond bloke had been so very forward, so eager to take command – he knew perfectly well what he wanted, and he wasn't afraid to ask – he was the only one Remus had ever let fuck him..._

_Not true_ , says a voice inside him, and before he can prevent it Remus is flooded with memories of Sirius, very drunk, crying out in triumph over having finally managed to jam his dick inside an equally drunk and extremely horny Remus. _The look on his face_ , thinks Remus, unable to stop stroking himself. _The muscles in his arms. The way he bit his lip in concentration as he thrusted..._

_ENOUGH_ , he thinks, jerking his hand away from his erection. He lies there panting, trying to decide if he has actually shouted the word out loud. His dick throbs, completely unaffected by his state of emotional turmoil. _Just think about something normal_ , he tells himself, _and get this over with._

He tries going back to the redhead again – _the mesmerizing way her breasts bounced up and down as she rode his cock, the way she would throw her head back in pleasure, the vice-like grip of her cunt when she had an orgasm_ – but it is all in vain. His fantasies keep circling back to memories of his time with Sirius, completely overriding the hatred his rational mind feels for the vile traitor he once thought he loved. _Scum_ , he thinks, grimacing in disgust. _Filthy backstabber. We should never have trusted him anyway, not after we had seen what he was capable of..._

He looks down at his deflated erection. _That's more like it_ , he thinks, with a sigh. It has been so long since he last saw Sirius – since he has had to come to terms with the fact that the man he had thought was in love with him was actually a spy, a mass murderer and most likely completely insane – that sometimes he feels ashamed by the strenght with which memories of their time together still affect him. _A better man_ , he tells himself grimly, _would not still be thinking about him after twelve years. He should be dead to you. Do you think_ he _still thinks about you?_

At this point, Remus is feeling self-pity and self-disgust in equal parts. Is he really not yet over the fact that Sirius dumped him all those years ago? Still concerned about what his ex-boyfriend – the murderer, the escaped convict who is now in all likelihood after James' poor son, yearning to finish the job Voldemort botched back then – feels about him? Remus hates himself. 

_But I don't care what he thinks of me_ , he thinks, truthfully. _I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that he could be the way he was with me, and at the same time be plotting James' demise. His mind probably snapped at some point,_ he concludes, desperately willing himself to believe it. _It's the only explanation._

It is the conclusion he reaches every time he allows himself to think about Sirius, which unfortunately he's doing a lot more often than he used to now that he is back at Hogwarts – everything about the school reminds him of their time there. Sirius was such a good friend back then, loyal to a fault, blindly devoted to his mates in a way that should have given Remus a hint of the kind of fanaticism he would be capable of once his allegiances eventually switched. 

_He would have let Snape die before allowing him to discover my secret_ , he thinks, sickened. _He would have let_ me _kill Snape. He was not right in the head, even back then._

But that version of things doesn't sit right with Remus, not if he's being completely honest. Sirius has always been reckless, and he had the kind of upbringing that could have made anybody snap eventually, but the man Remus shared a bed with for three years was not insane in the slightest. This is a very deeply held belief for him, almost a certainty, and he would die sooner than voicing it to anybody else. _If he was not insane_ , he thinks for the hundredth time, stuffing his now definitely limp dick back into his pyjama pants, any hope of getting to sleep dissolved completely, _then I was in love with a monster._

Outside the window, a pale sickle of moon shines cruelly down on him. _And how ironic that would be._

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to prevent @YouBlitheringIdiot's inevitable objections by reminding her that this takes place before my other fic where they TALK TO EACH OTHER AND GET BACK TOGETHER AND ARE HAPPY FOREVER.


End file.
